Heart of the Sandhills (19 page)

“Mrs. Lawrence and the new baby went to the reservation on the Niobrara. Robert settled her with friends there. But Genevieve—Mrs. Two Stars—insisted on coming with her husband.”

“I like her already,” Libby said, winking at the doctor.

“I have to admit that I sort of planned we’d impose on you once we came to Fort Laramie. Of course we hoped things would be more peaceful, but—”

“Well, they aren’t,” Beaumont interrupted. “I’ve treated more arrow wounds than scurvy in the past two weeks.”

John frowned and gulped coffee. “We’re supposed to be here for the September 1st parlay. As long as the weather holds in Nebraska, we’ll head back along the Platte after that. Unless, of course, my orders change.”

“You’re just itching to get some real action, aren’t you?” Beaumont said. “Hoping you’ll be ordered to stay out here.”

Willets shrugged. “Nothing worse than an army man stationed where there’s no need for army. Fort Ridgely isn’t going to be attacked again. Settlers are pouring in. There’s not much to be done back there.”

“And not much hope of another promotion unless you see action, is there, Captain?” Libby interjected.

John smiled. “Well said, Mrs. Beaumont.” He stretched his legs. “One thing you should know about the Two Stars.. They aren’t your typical Indians. At least not what you’re used to out here. They’re Christians.”

Libby and her husband exchanged glances.

“No,” Willets said. “I mean it. They are real Christians. Like you two.”

“What do you mean, like us two?” Libby asked. “You sound like you’re describing a common disease.”

John laughed softly. “I mean they read their Bibles every day and they try to do what it says.” He thought hard, then cleared his throat. “When they first came to Fort Ridgely and I heard what that homesteader did to Genevieve, I was all set to take a few men to his place and, as I put it, ‘put the fear of God’ into him. Daniel wouldn’t have it. He said everything in him wanted to do just that, but he couldn’t. He said he’d leave it with God. That he wasn’t going to live a life of vengeance anymore.”

“I’m honored, John, to think you connect that kind of faith with me,” Dr. Beaumont said. “Honored and touched.”

“If I didn’t know better,” Willets said suddenly, “I’d think God was ambushing
me
with true Christians.” He laughed at his joke, but neither Doctor nor Mrs. Beaumont did. He swiped his hand over his goatee. “Big Amos and Robert Lawrence are Christians, too. I reckon they’ll be in church on Sunday if you have a minister preaching.”

“We do,” the doctor said. “And they’ll be welcome. So would you, John.”

Willets set his empty coffee cup on the serving tray and stood up. “I’ll be bringing Daniel and Genevieve by to meet you, then.”

“Why not come to dinner after church tomorrow?” Mrs. Beaumont asked.

“That your way of making it harder for me to skip church?” “No,” Mrs. Beaumont shot back as she bent over to pick up the serving tray. “But if I’d thought of it, I would have used it.” Willets opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you in church then, John,” Doctor Beaumont said, smiling. “Ten o’clock. Bring all your friends. Bring the whole company if you can.”

Willets nodded and stepped outside. The sun was dipping behind Laramie Peak in the distance, casting long shadows in the valley. Unhitching his buckskin gelding, he stood for a moment, reins in hand, looking across the parade ground toward the stone church. The cross at the top of the steeple was still illuminated in bright sunlight. He smiled. His mother would be so pleased.

What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.

—Psalm 56:3

“Oh, Aaron,” Gen swallowed the lump in her throat. She put her hand on the boy’s arm. She hadn’t noticed before, but as she looked down now, she realized Aaron had his father’s hands. How had that happened? She looked back up at him. The goatee he had been nursing along for the past few weeks was actually beginning to show. His hair was longer, too, but pleasingly so. Blond ringlets spilled over his forehead. He hated the curls. The women at Fort Laramie did not. Gen had seen them turn their heads as he walked by. She patted his arm and squeezed it. “I know how much it cost you to say that. And I love you for it. But I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your duty.”

She blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes and looked up at him. “You’re a man now, Aaron. You aren’t that little boy who climbed the tree to get away from all the horrible things happening around him anymore. You want to be in the middle of the action.” She inhaled deeply. “And I want you to go.”
Do all mothers lie at times like this?

“You’re sure?” He could hardly keep the excitement from his voice. “You’re sure, Ma?”

“No,” Gen said, making herself laugh. “I’m not at all sure. Now get out of here before I change my mind. Go tell Captain Willets you’ll be with the company heading up to Phil Kearney.”

Aaron kissed her on the cheek, grabbed up his hat, and headed for the door. He paused just outside. “I love you, Ma.”

Gen nodded. Then she buried her face in her hands and wept.

“Aaron told me what you said.” Daniel put his arm around her. “You still surprise me at times, little wife.”

“Somehow, sometime this summer he became a man. I didn’t even see it happen.” She paused. “He has Simon’s hands. But I think Ellen is in there, too. There’s a gentleness about him.” She sighed. “I hope he never loses that.”

“We’ll take good care of him.”

She said nothing, only wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. “I am trying very hard, best beloved.”

“I know you are.” He brushed his lips across her forehead before hugging her fiercely. “Let’s walk.”

They exited the tiny adobe cabin Gen would call home for the next few weeks and headed for the foothills in the distance, walking past a collection of tepees inhabited by friendly Indians called “loafers,” natives who never left their camping places around the fort. Loafers, Gen had learned that day, were looked down upon by the whites as lazy and by their own people as too accepting of white handouts. Making their way toward the river, Daniel and Gen sat down beneath a fringe of low brush in full view of the water.

“I read from Philippians this morning,” Gen said abruptly. She recited, “For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” She paused. “You wouldn’t think abundance would require learning anything about contentment. But when I was in New York at Leighton Hall, I had to work on it. I wasn’t truly happy, but I felt God wanted me there.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed toward the other side of the river. “Then I got what I wanted and came home to you. It wasn’t the way we expected it to be at the Grants. But I was learning to be content.”

“Even if we didn’t own the land?” Daniel asked.

Gen shrugged. “That never mattered to me. We had what we needed.” She swallowed. “And now, I know He is still with us. But—” she sighed and shook her head. “I’m not content.” She hid her face against her knees and talked into her skirt. “I don’t want to be in this place without you.” She raised her head and looked up at her husband.

He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her over to rest against him. “I’m sorry, little wife. This isn’t the life I wanted to give you.”

Gen put her hand over his. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing what God gave you to do. If it means we have to be apart for a while, I should be content and concentrate on the blessings. But I can’t seem to get to that place.” She laughed sadly. “I’m such a hypocrite.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This morning while you were out with the horses, Mrs. Beaumont came to camp. She said she thought it was wonderful the way I was trusting the Lord.”

“She seems nice,” Daniel offered.

“She is.” Gen sighed. “How amazing that God provided a Christian sister for me all the way out here.” After a pause, Gen said, “But, Daniel, she said she
admires
how well I’m taking your leaving.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Gen shook her head. “The only reason she admires the way I’m handling this is because I’m a very good hypocrite. I manage to hide the crumbling walls inside.”

“I don’t think being content means you don’t feel anything. Doesn’t that verse say Paul
learned
it? That means he wasn’t always content, either.”

They were quiet for a while. Finally, Gen spoke up again. “I won’t believe God is letting this happen without a purpose. I’m thinking there’s something I can only learn by staying behind. But I don’t want to learn it. Not this way.”

“There is a plan, Blue Eyes. We just can’t see it.”

“All right. So then the question is, how can this be made good for you and me? If God causes all things to work together for good, then how is this expedition and your going up to Fort Phil Kearney going to work for good?”

“If we knew that, little wife, we probably wouldn’t have to go through it. We’d be onto the next lesson.”

“You mean we’d still be back in Minnesota enjoying our little cabin and our friends?”

Daniel smiled sadly. “Maybe.”

“Ooh,” Gen balled her hands up into fists and pounded her head. “Why do I have to be so
dense?
Why does God have to make the lessons so
hard?
”

“I love you, little wife.” Daniel pulled her close.

“I’m a terrible student and a rebellious child. I’m mad at God. And when I tell you all that . . .
that
makes you say you love me?”

He kissed her cheek. “Of course. If you are a terrible student and a rebellious child . . . and just a little bit angry at God, then it brings us closer together, because I am all of those things and worse.” He grew serious. “I’m not looking forward to going up that river into hostile territory, Blue Eyes.”

She pushed away from him. “Daniel Two Stars . . . are you admitting you’re
afraid?!
”

He looked down into her eyes. “I am.” When she nestled against him again, he said, “You have been concentrating on a verse about learning to be content. The one I have been thinking about talks about ‘momentary light affliction.’ It talks about how these things are nothing compared to the ‘eternal weight of glory’ we will enjoy someday. Those two phrases keep pounding in my head. But no matter how often I tell myself this is momentary and light . . .”

“It doesn’t feel momentary or light at all.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Again, there was silence, until Daniel began to pray. “My Father. We have come out here to help our friend Elliot on his mission for the government. Thank You for giving me this work. But, Father, we are afraid. I don’t want to leave Blue Eyes alone at this fort. I want to be with her forever and always. But I have to go. And when I come back, Father, where will we go then? We don’t know. We can’t return to Minnesota. Must we go to the reservation in Nebraska? When I think about all these things, and about Aaron being a soldier and all the other troubles in our lives, Lord, I am afraid. Blue Eyes says she is not content. And we do not feel that all of this trouble is momentary or light. I don’t know anything to say, Lord, except that we are Your children and we want to do what is right. Show us the way. And when You have shown us, give us the courage to walk it.”

“You take this.” Daniel pulled the small leather money bag he wore around his neck and put it over her head. “Buy that red calico at the sutler’s store and make a new dress to wear when I come home.” He touched her chin and kissed her lightly before whispering, “Not too many buttons, though.”

She followed him outside, barely managing to help Edward pack up the camp kitchen while she tried to see everything Daniel did. She watched him as much as possible, trying to memorize him. Once, she caught Captain Willets watching her. He smiled and nodded. It made her blush and feel self-conscious to think he had been watching her watch Daniel.

Aaron and Elliot joined them for the last breakfast, served just as the sky was blushing pink at dawn. They talked about nothing and everything, filling the air with words just to keep the silence from accenting everyone’s nervousness. When at last the bugle sounded “boots and saddles,” there was a certain amount of relief in the call to duty. Big Amos and Robert gave Gen letters to send down the trail to Santee with the next mail stage. Aaron and Elliot had already posted letters home. They said their good-byes and went to mount up, leaving Daniel and Gen a moment to themselves.

Daniel’s white stallion bobbed his head up and down and danced sideways.

“He’s ready to go,” Gen said nervously. She looked up. “I guess you are, too. You don’t have to kiss me . . . the men are watching.”

“Are they?” Daniel said, staring down at her. “Good.” He pulled her close and enjoyed a long, slow kiss, ignoring the stallion’s impatient whicker until the animal head-butted them apart.

“Well,” Gen said breathlessly.

“Yes,” Daniel said, cupping her face in his hands. “You,” he said, “are the best thing that ever happened to me.” Gen stepped away. When he jumped astride the horse without using the stirrups, she teased him about showing off.

“If you think that’s showing off, just wait until I get back.” He leaned down to brush his finger along her jawline. “Don’t forget. A red dress.”

“And not too many buttons,” she answered back.

“I love you, best beloved,” he said.

“And I, you.” She smiled up at him, intent on being brave. Almost, she succeeded. Until she caught a glimpse of the tears welling up in his dark eyes. Swallowing hard, she backed away. He urged the white horse forward and joined the men. She bent over and picked up the bundle he’d left behind and stood watching the men file out of the now-deserted camp. As the last horse disappeared in the distance, a white horse came thundering back along the column. Just barely, she saw him stand up in the stirrups and lift his hand. She waved back. In a moment, he wheeled the stallion around and was gone.

Mrs. Beaumont found her, sitting on the bundle that represented everything she owned in the world and nothing that mattered, sobbing as if her heart would break.

“Oh my dear, my dear girl,” a voice was saying.

Gen swiped at her cheeks and stood up. Bending over, she grabbed a strap and hoisted the bundle off the ground. “I’m all right,” she said.

“Of course you are,” Mrs. Beaumont said. “And I’m the Queen of England. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Will you come to tea?”

Gen looked up at the woman uncertainly.

“If it makes any difference,” she said gently, “I felt the same way the first time Dr. Beaumont left me alone at a fort.” She tucked a wisp of gray hair behind her ear.